From Adam
by AliasPseudo
Summary: Weddings are beautiful, joyous occasions...  unless you're the odd man out.  Though, does it really count if there are two?  Trowa POV, One-shot.


**From Adam**

by APs

**A/N:** Hi, all! I'm not dead, my life has just been in limbo for a long while, so I've been remiss on updating. Which was terrible for Fortnight, but here's a stand alone until I post a finished chapter, which should be soon. Anyway, with the current disaster in Japan, I couldn't let an opportunity pass. **I've put an offer up on the LiveJournal auction for charity.** That's right, if anyone ever wanted to see a sequel/continuation of my one-shots, a pair I haven't covered/don't usually write, or a completely different fandom, this is your chance. Bidding starts at $5, so it's not expensive.

http :/ / community . livejournal . com / help_japan / 5198 . html ? thread = 4522318#t4522318 (erase the spaces, it was the only way I found FFnet wouldn't eat it)

There are quite a few awesome authors on there, so check the rest, too.

As for the fic, it is what it is, no beta and a pairing only if you squint. Haven't decided if it's might grow into something more, yet. Thanks for reading! Reviews would be cherished!

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i**

The place was beautiful, like something from a dream. Well, maybe somebody else's dream. I couldn't help feeling wrong. Exposed. I didn't belong here. Not that I belonged anywhere, really, but this place made that fact glaringly obvious. As though that gnawing feeling in my stomach that kept my eyes sharp and guard up only made me more of a target. Not that anyone was paying me any attention. That I knew of. No. Nearly all eyes were on the dance floor, glued to the newlyweds as they took their first dance. Mister and Misses Quatre Raberba Winner.

I had stood for the service. Best Man. Rashid had given Sylvia away. It had been fairly standard, at least compared to the two others I had ever attended. Duo and Hilde's had been quicker. My sister's, smaller. I'd spent the time rerunning exit strategies Heero and I had worked out during Rehearsal the night before.

Now I stood in the midst of the crowd, watching the couple twirl in the beautiful ballroom, hiding behind a champagne flute and feeling awkward. Not that anyone would be able to tell. Last time I could remember holding my mask this hard I was infiltrating Oz. Or maybe I was killing my own mercenary troop. Sometimes it's still hard to remember. Either way, it had been a while. Cathy would have laughed, but she'd never really forgiven Quatre for something or other, so she hadn't come. Quatre would have given me that worried smile if he wasn't so preoccupied. Duo was busy fawning over his very pregnant wife. Maid of Honor Relena Dorlain was off in a corner, prepping the night's few remaining traditional activities with her bodyguard, shadow, and lover, Heero Yuy. Maybe she'd catch the bouquet tonight. Not that Yuy would ever propose. Or Relena would ever need the formality.

Sweeping the crowd, again, I realized someone was missing. Sally, Une, and Dorothy were chatting with Rashid and some of Quatre's myriad sisters. I knew all their names. The dance ended, toasts were made. I kept mine brief. Others were not as kind. The newlyweds, very happy, very fitting, very blond, thanked everyone. Urged us all to have fun. Music and light warmed the room. Food and drink were everywhere. Chatter and dancing and laughter. The laughter was the worst. Jarring, sudden.

I headed for the balcony, reaching for a cigarette in case anyone noticed my retreat. Never forfeit cover. Outside the world was blue and crystal, frozen and dead. I hated it. The cold seeped into my bones. Found old wounds I'd misplaced. Made my joints, my hands ache. Brought back memories of snowbound forest ambushes. Antarctica. Drifting. I let myself shiver as I lit my cigarette.

"Bad habit," a silky voice offered and I wondered briefly if I'd finally fractured my sanity, giving my inner critic a voice. Looking up, I realized it was just Wufei, leaning against the wall beside the door, staring at me. Six of one...

I stared back, filling my lungs with heat and wondering which he meant, smoking or letting down my guard, "So I'm told."

He smirked. Small, sharp. Predatory. He was still wearing that black silk suit I remembered noting earlier. Traditional Chinese leaning, appropriate and out of place. Very Wufei. For some reason, I always expected to see him in white, even though he hadn't worn it since the war. We stared at each other for a long while. He breathed steam. I billowed smoke.

"You don't like me, do you," he hypothesized, bone dry. Seemed midway between amused and concerned. Unsure whether it should matter.

I flicked ash into the snow that was slowly ruining my overly expensive shoes and weighed my options. All the memory I'd regained of Wufei was a vague sense of respect, which was not insignificant. Not very helpful, either. Then he'd seemed so lost, yet so driven. A man apart. Loose cannon. Truth be told, every time I looked at him, I still saw a sword pointed my way. Wufei holding a sword. A girl holding a puzzle game. I licked my lower lip, "You remind me of someone."

He snorted, which meant I was off the hook, "It's been a while."

I nodded. Understatement. I hadn't seen him in years.

"How's the circus?" There's that odd condescending admiration to his tone. I've never known how to classify it. Probably couldn't fake it, either.

I let a small smile get through, "Still there. Cathy sends her best."

"I'm sure. Give my regards." He smirked. Same damn smirk. I could make the others laugh, even Heero. Not Wufei.

"Where are you living now?"

"Preventer's barracks."

I blinked at him. Quatre usually kept us abreast of each other's news. Spreading around Hilde's ultrasounds and other Maxwell photos. Relaying 'pertinent information' packets for Heero. For Wufei, it was updating his mailing address every six months or so. The man had lived all over the Earth Sphere by now, but he had always owned a house.

"I decided to stop looking for something that doesn't exist," he explained. He looked tired. Weary. Cold. Familiar.

"Here," I offered my nearly untouched champagne.

He didn't make a move, "No. Thank you."

"It'll warm you."

Dark eyes cast to the side for the first time, sharp, keeping me in periphery, "Champagne is for celebrations."

I raised an eyebrow, "Have something against weddings?"

"They remind me of someone." Hadn't missed a beat. Obsidian eyes drew back to me. Smooth, sharp, dark. "Besides, it makes me question Winner's intelligence."

"She didn't know him from Adam two months ago." It was an old phrase the circus folk used. Couldn't say why, but it seemed fitting. Wufei and antique idioms.

He scowled. "The question is whether she knows him now."

"She must." I remembered Sylvia. More accurately, I remembered pacifist Sylvia Noventa pointing a gun at Heero. I knew the story, some even from my own memories. Mangled as they were.

He'd arched an eyebrow, but the French door swinging open cut him off. It was dark and the sudden flood of warm, golden light stung. The glass had all frozen over. Condensation solidified in complex crystals. Relena was in the door, not planning on venturing further.

"Ah, there you are, Trowa," she beamed.

"Relena." I brought my neglected cigarette back to my mouth. Almost dead.

"Have you seen Wufei?" He was standing on the other side of the frosted French doors. In shadow. Still.

I didn't even think, "No. Why do you ask?"

A darkness passed over her expression. Worry. "He seems to have disappeared somewhere and, well, no one has seen him in a while, then Sally said something... I'm sure it's nothing."

"I'll find him. You go back to the party."

She hesitated. "Are you sure? I mean, if anyone can take care of himself, it's Wufei, and you are Quatre's Best Man."

"Finding lost Groomsmen is the Best Man's job. Have Heero stand in for me if I miss something."

She smiled. Shivering. "Thank you so much, Trowa."

"It's fine. Get back inside before you freeze."

She leveled a critical eye at me. "You know, smoking really is a nasty habit."

"So I'm frequently told." I gave her a small smile that probably didn't mean what she thought.

She laughed, waving as she closed the door once more. The world was dark and blue and twinkling again as I waited for my eyes to readjust. Wufei materialized. Watching.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Dark eyes were attempting to dissect me.

I shifted my weight, feet starting to numb. "Why didn't you?"

Silence. Not bad silence, either. His reasons were obviously private and I was only moderately curious. My filter started to burn, noxious, so I dropped it into the flute. It died with a hiss. "I'd better start looking."

Wufei popped an eyebrow, quizzical. Probably.

"No telling where you might be by now."

That small smirk tugged at his lips.

"Figured I'd start at the bar down the road."

"Assuming I went for a real drink," he offered. Seeing the game. Playing along.

I nodded, planting the crystal stemware in the snow. It sparkled like its surroundings. Elegant, slender. Cigarette butt festering inside, poisoning. Fitting. Lone monument to my presence. "It's a start."


End file.
